Play It Again
by Dracoisalooker76
Summary: When Katniss Everdeen's favorite musician comes to town, she knows she wants to go to the concert. Little does she know it won't be Luke Bryan capturing her attention. Modern AU.


_This story was written for my friend arollercoasterthatonlygoesup to celebrate her birthday and originally posted to my Tumblr page. She requested this prompt: Everlark meeting at a concert/having the same taste in music and bonding over it._

* * *

The music is so loud that it floats in through my window like some sort of tease. It's too hot to close it, but I'm almost ready to sweat to death just so I don't have to listen. I should have insisted that Dad put my air conditioner in my window when he did Prim's yesterday, but it's only June and this heat wave will pass eventually.

Just not tonight.

I groan and roll over, covering my head with a pillow and trying to drown out the music. Of course, when I found out that Luke Bryan was coming to the state pier, I wanted to go. My parents, both born and raised here in the northeast, hate country music more than any other type of music and had zero idea of why I would ever want to do that. My dad even asked, as a joke, how I could be his daughter. When I asked Prim if she wanted to go, she stuck up her nose. If it's not Taylor Swift, she wants nothing to do with country. The only other person I would consider asking to go with me is Gale and he works on Thursday nights.

Once I figured out that I'd be going by myself, spending the money on a ticket didn't seem like a practical idea. Or an entertaining one. Going to a concert by yourself? As much as I'm not a people person, even I know that doesn't sound like fun. Of course, that was before I realized the music would be so loud it would travel the two miles between the pier and my window.

I flip over and lay on my back, staring up at my ceiling. I _could_ go down there. I won't be able to actually get onto the pier, but I could hang out nearby. There's a decent park near the ferry terminal and there's always the parking garage. I could actually probably see the stage if I got up on the top of it.

It's better than just sitting here in misery.

I grab my phone and wallet, stuffing them both in the crossbody that Prim got me for my birthday. I told her I'd never use it. I'm not really a pocketbook kind of girl. But I figure why not? It'll make my mother happy – she wasn't exactly thrilled at my reaction when I opened the box.

All of them are sitting in the living room, watching a baseball game. Dad's got the newspaper in his hands and Mom looks like she's watching the live feed from QVC on her laptop while occasionally looking toward game. Prim is in the corner of the room, her headphones in and her eyes glued to the screen of her phone.

"Dad?" I ask. He looks up. "Will you drive me downtown?"

He looks up from the paper and chuckles. "What are you going to do down there?"

Mom gives me a look. "Are you really going down there? You won't be able to see."

"I can hear," I tell her.

Dad laughs. "Sure. I'll bring you down there," he says.

He teases me the entire ride down and to mess with him I turn the country music station on his radio. Once we get there, he parks in one of the spots along the main street next to the harbor and asks if I want him to come with me. I know why he asks. It's after dark and, while the city is relatively safe, my parents aren't extraordinarily comfortable leaving me on my own. I shake my head and tell him that I'll call when it's over and I need him to come get me. He clearly wants to argue, but I'm eighteen now and in the fall I'll be off to college and on my own. That's my argument. Let me breathe while I'm in my own city. He tells me to call him when the show ends.

If I thought it was loud at home, it's even louder down here. I've barely rounded the corner to the entrance to the pier and I feel like I could be right next to the stage. I walk up right close and see how far I can get before they have it gated off and I lean against the railing. The water laps below me and music swirls through the air. I shut my eyes for a moment and listen.

I'm glad that I came.

There are a lot more people than I figured would be here, many with the same idea as me. There are plenty of people who are clearly drunk and then others like me who aren't. There are some who come dressed to the nines in 'country' wear – they've got their cowboy boots and hats and everything. Then there are others who, like me, came in whatever they were wearing. I'm lucky I wasn't in my pajamas because I hadn't even thought to change.

About ten yards away from me is a group of kids – or adults? They look like they could be college age. The two girls are passing a water bottle back and forth between them. There's a guy who, even in the darkness, I can tell is ridiculously attractive. There's another guy too, this one with very blond hair. So blond that it almost glows in the darkness. The non-blond guy has his phone out, trying to hold it up above his head to capture them all. I roll my eyes. That picture's not going to come out very good in the dark anyway but there's no way that can be a flattering angle in any light.

The blond guy takes the phone and moves to take the picture of the girls and the other guy, but he gets told off for doing so it looks like. They're far enough away that I can't exactly hear over the music, but close enough that when the blond guy turns around we can make eye contact and he starts coming toward me. I turn back toward the water.

Oh no.

"Hey!"

I turn back around from where I had decided to hide by looking down at the water again. The blond boy is now right in front of me and I can just make out his features in the moonlight. He has a strong jaw, pale skin that seems illuminated, and a head of what look to be soft bouncy curls. He's like a movie star and I know he must be older than me. None of the boys I just graduated with look nearly this put together. Everyone always jokes that Gale has looked like a man since he was fourteen, but this guy makes him look like a pimply teenager. This guy must be in college or even graduated. He's too old for me to even consider liking.

Liking. I haven't even spoken to him.

This is why I've never had a date.

"Would you mind taking our picture?" he asks. His grin is crooked. I don't even speak. I just follow.

I'm such a sucker.

Within seconds I'm handed an iPhone and the four of them get into position. I take a few and each time the flash goes off I think I've blinded everyone within a five yard radius, but when the girls take a look they seem to like the photos. They thank me and I head back to my spot.

Even though I couldn't really hear them before, now it seems like all I can hear. All of them are laughing, talking, enjoying themselves, and I look down at the water, trying to let the music drown out their voices. I've never really had a group of friends that I could do stuff like this with. I've never really had a group of friends. I have Gale, but he's my cousin. He kind of has to be my friend. And Madge but we're more companions than friends. We hung around at school but we've only seen each other outside of school a handful of times. I mostly just stick to myself, and I like that usually. But it's times like this that I wish I had at least someone.

I feel a person come to stand beside me, but I don't look up from the water until he speaks.

"Are you all by yourself?"

It startles me a little and I try not to make that obvious. But the blond boy seems sincere. I'm surprised that he's talking to me and I'm not entirely sure what to do. This boy's smile is just as beautiful as the rest of him. Interacting with boys, especially attractive boys, has never really been my strong suit. Whereas most girls get all cute and giggly, I turn snarky and, at my worst, hostile. Gale always tells me that if I'm ever going to get married I need to lighten up and I always tell him I'm never getting married.

I nod my head. That's all I dare to do.

He grins and looks over his shoulder for a minute before turning back. "I kind of wish I had come alone," he says. "Those three know nothing about good music."

"They don't like this?"

He shakes his head. "They're here to appease me mostly," he says, but he doesn't look too upset about it. "And, considering this is one of my favorite songs of his, I figured I'd come stand by someone who enjoys it as much as I do."

I hadn't even been paying attention to the music since he came over. I listen for a few seconds to figure out which song it is. I know all his songs. He's my favorite artist. It doesn't hurt that he's just as good looking as he is at singing.

"..._And we spent that week wide open,__  
__upside down beside the ocean.__  
__I didn't know where it was goin',__  
__just tryin' to keep my heart on the tracks_..."

It's not one of his extremely popular songs, but I recognize it easily. The blond boy starts singing along softly.

"..._I should've known that kind of feelin'__  
__would have last longer than the week did.__  
__Blown away and barely breathin',__  
__Sunday came and it was over.__  
__Now she's got me twisted__  
__like an old beach roller coaster_..."

We both sing along with the lyrics and when the song ends, the blond boy holds out his hand.

"I'm Peeta, by the way."

"Katniss."

"Mind if I stand with you?"

I shake my head.

Normally, standing with a complete stranger would give me anxiety. I'd want to get away as fast as possible. But standing with Peeta doesn't feel like that. It's an odd feeling – like I've known him my entire life but I know next to nothing about him. I know what one of his favorite songs is and that his singing voice is pretty terrible, but nothing else and yet I don't want to move away and I don't want him to go back to his friends.

He stays with me for the next hour, right up until the last song is played and people start to head out. And just when I think he's going to say goodbye and walk over to his friends – who are probably perturbed that he left them alone anyway – he nods his head toward them.

"Do you want to come with us?" he asks. "We're going down to Middle Wharf."

That's a bar and, not just any bar, it's the one my uncle owns. A lot of college kids like to go there. I bite my lip.

And here is where the fairytale ends.

"Oh, I can't," I say. "I'm not twenty-one."

His face contorts with shock and I can see him swallow passed his Adam's apple. "Please tell me you're not fourteen or something."

"I'm eighteen," I tell him.

He visibly relaxes. "Oh thank God," he says. "I was going to feel like a real creep for wanting to hang out with you more if you were."

He wants to hang out with me? How have I managed to not chase him off yet?

"So do you want to?" he asks.

"Do I want to what?"

He smiles shyly. "Hang out?"

I nod and he runs off to tell his friends to leave without him. Is this real life or have I actually walked into a Taylor Swift song? Prim is never going to believe this. As he's walking back toward me, I realize that I probably can't stay with him. My dad would flip if I called him and said, oh don't worry about picking me up I met this really cool guy who is at least twenty-one and we're going to hang out downtown. Yeah, no.

I pull up my texts. It's easier for me to lie by typing.

_I ran into a friend. I'm going to hang out with them for a while. I'll call later [delivered 9:12pm]_

My dad's text bubble pops up soon after.

_Dad [sent 9:12pm]: Alright be careful _

For a brief moment, I contemplate that this is how horror movies start. Maybe I should be more nervous that I'll end up face down in the harbor, but I push that out of my head as soon as Peeta finds me again and smiles.

"So, the city awaits," he says, holding out an arm. I slip mine through his and shake my head. What have I turned into?

There isn't much to do after nine on a Thursday night. All the little shops are closed and Peeta seems to be directing me away from where the majority of the bars are located. I don't mind.

"So, how old are you?" I ask, finally deciding it's time to figure out what I've gotten myself into now that we're pretty much alone.

"I just turned twenty-one yesterday," he says. "That's why Finn and the girls wanted to take me out to the bars."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. I'm more than happy to spend tonight with you."

I think my swallow is audible.

"Are you from around here?" I ask. If he's only three years older than me, than he might have been friends with one of my cousins or I might have even passed him in the hallways at school once. That would make it seem like less of a horror movie plot.

He shakes his head. "I'm actually from Connecticut, but I go to State here and I'm living in the city this summer to do an internship."

That makes sense. State is two hours or so north of here and in the middle of nowhere. A lot of kids from there move down here for the summer and do internships because there's not really anything nearby the university.

"What about you?" he asks.

"Born and raised."

He grins. "That's awesome. It's a great little place," he says. "I like it here."

I nod my head but don't say anything and he quirks an eyebrow. "You don't?"

"No, I do," I say. "I just...I feel like if I don't leave now I'll never leave, you know?"

He agrees. "I get that. I felt the same way. So, you graduated?" I nod. "Where are you headed?"

"Boston."

We talk about that for a minute. I find out that Peeta is going to school at State for their rehabilitation services major and taking advantage of the New England tuition break – which basically means that because UCONN doesn't offer his major he can go here for in-state tuition. I ask him what he wants to do after he graduates and he says that he'll ultimately go to grad school and get his masters, but he wants to work with kids that have Autism and their families. His older brother apparently has it.

Of course he asks me about what I want to do and I shrug. I made my decision about my college almost solely on location. I could have majored in biology at State and gotten in-state tuition and all that, but my grandparents are paying for my college, just as they've done for all of my cousins, and my grandmother told me to go where felt right – price wasn't an issue. Gale was kind of mad when I told him I was going to Boston because we'd always just assumed that we'd be going to school together since kindergarten. It's how we'd grown up – all going up to hockey games, wearing _Go Blue!_ shirts since we were tots. But I wanted to do something different, something for myself.

"That's really cool of you," Peeta says. "And Boston's not that far."

It's not. It's two hours and there's a train. Of course, telling my family that was like talking to a brick wall.

When we make it to the elementary school that serves the downtown area Peeta insists that we take a break and swing. I haven't swung on a swing set in years. I've watched Posy and Vick swing, but I haven't myself since Gale and I 'outgrew' the childish playground phase. We race to see who can swing the highest and who can jump the farthest. It's the most fun I've had in a long time.

And when we're laying on the woodchips, looking up at the stars, I tell him that.

"Oh no," he says. "I'm sure that's not true."

I shrug. "I don't have many friends. Just my cousins, really."

I've got a lot of cousins, my mom is one of nine kids, but Gale's the one I'm closest to and he has friends of his own whereas I have Madge.

"Have a lot of cousins?" he asks. I nod and he asks more about them so I give him a quick overview of my family – all my mom's siblings, their husbands and wives and kids. He takes it in like he's memorizing it for a test.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to have a big family," he says. "Both my parents are only children so I don't have any aunts or uncles."

"It's okay most of the time," I say. "Sometimes it gets a little overwhelming."

"That's probably what you'll want one day though, right?" he asks. "A big brood like you grew up with."

"I'm never getting married."

"How come?"

To be honest, I don't really know. It's just come to be something that I've accepted over the years. I think it all started with Gale. It was at his fifteenth birthday party and, at the time, I had a huge crush on his best friend Thom and the reason we both figured that out was because everything that came out of my mouth seemed to be some sort of insult to him.

I still remember Gale saying, "Lighten up with the claws, Catnip. You'll never get married if you tear guys to shreds like that."

"Maybe I don't want to get married," I retaliated.

I suppose that line has sort of become my armor. If I convince my family that I don't necessarily want to get married, it won't hurt so badly if I actually don't. I grew up in a huge Irish Catholic family, with lots of aunts and uncles and cousins running around. My mom is the youngest of the nine Abernathy siblings and all of them are married with at least two, often three or four, kids, and all of us live within twenty minutes of each other. It's only natural that I'd want what I grew up with, right?

And why do I want to tell this to Peeta when I can barely admit it to myself?

"I just..." I trail off. "I don't think it's for me."

"Crazy cat lady fantasies?" he jokes.

I snort. "That might work if I liked cats," I say. "Consequences of naming your kid a name that starts with Kat – she'll probably end up hating them."

He chuckles. "That's hilarious." He turns to me. "But, you do realize you're only eighteen. A lot can change. You might find a perfect guy for you right under your nose and if you're adverse to marriage he'll slip right out of your fingers."

"Are you sure you're not an English major?" I ask. "Because you're spinning poetry that sounds a lot like BS."

He shrugs and keeps his eyes on me. "I just like to believe in happy endings. Is that a crime?"

"No," I say, unable to turn away either. "I guess not."

The sound of my phone ringing snaps us both out of our gaze. I sit up and reach into my bag, grabbing my phone and groaning when I see that my parents are calling. I slide the little bar to answer.

"Hello?"

"Katniss, where are you?" Mom's voice says. "It's midnight!"

I wince. I hadn't realized that it was that late. My curfew had been eleven in high school and my parents allowed it to be pushed back to midnight when I graduated. I never really used it. While Prim was more likely to stay out right up until the deadline, I was almost always at home.

"Oh, um, I'm still with a friend."

"Well, it's time to come home," she says. "I'm sending Dad to come get you."

"Okay, yeah, I'm at the Meadow School."

"He'll be there in ten minutes."

And then she hangs up.

"I hope I didn't get you in trouble," Peeta says, wincing.

I shake my head and put my phone away again. "No, it's fine," I say. "I just lost track of time, that's all. My dad's coming, though."

"I could have given you a ride so your dad didn't have to," he says.

Again, I shake my head. "Nah, don't worry about it. I'm sure he wants to talk to me anyway, remind me that my curfew is midnight and all that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I tell him. "Like I said, this is the most fun I've had in a while."

"Well maybe we can do this again sometime," he says. Then he holds his hands up. "I promise I'll get you back in time for curfew next time."

I laugh at how dumb that sounds coming out of his mouth. He probably doesn't have to deal with that anymore. Living in his own apartment, he only has to be courteous to his friend Finnick. His parents don't know what he does. It's a freedom that I'll have soon enough, but not now.

"Okay," I tell him.

"Cool. Can I get your number?"

I rattle mine off and he sends me a text with his name and by the time that's done I can see my dad's headlights pulling into the parking lot. We say our goodbyes and Peeta starts walking back toward his apartment. I offer to ask my dad to drive him but he says no, it's not far. I watch him walk from the window until we turn away out of sight.

"So, I take it that it was fun?" Dad asks.

"Yeah," I say. "It was."

"He sing your favorite song?"

It takes me a minute to answer because, to be honest, I had completely forgotten about the concert. I talk to him about the music a little and then when we get home Mom is sitting on the couch watching television. She gives me a dissatisfied look when I walk in, but she doesn't say anything. I just tell them goodnight and walk upstairs, brushing my teeth quickly and going to my room.

I pull out my phone to charge and when it lights up, Peeta's text message reappears from earlier. There are two more besides the one with his name, both sent within the last twenty minutes.

_203-555-1058 [sent 12:03am]: Peeta Mellark_

_203-555-1058 [sent 12:18am]: Hey I had fun tonight. I just wanted to make sure you knew that _

_203-555-1058 [sent 12:24am]: Would it be too soon if I asked if you wanted to do something tomorrow?_

I laugh and fix his contact info first.

_No. It's not too soon [delivered 12:31am]_

He responds back quickly.

_Peeta Mellark [sent 12:32am]: I get off work at 4. Think about what you want to do and I'll text you when I'm done_

I smile and send him back an emoticon before putting the phone down and climbing into bed.

...

Both my parents are still at work and Prim is at a friend's when Peeta knocks on the door. I'm scribbling a note for my parents, to let them know that I'm going out with a friend and Prim is too, when he does knock, so I call out that the door is open. He walks inside, careful to wipe his feet and stands in the entrance.

"Hey!" he says.

In the morning light, he's even more attractive and I find myself staring, without giving him much of a reply. It was hard to see exactly what he looked like in the darkness. He still has the soft blond curls, but his face has a dusting of hair on the chin, and _his eyes_. I didn't someone could actually have eyes that color without contacts or Photoshop.

"Hi."

"So, what's on the plate for dinner?" he asks as I grab my stuff and lock the door, following him out to his jeep.

Dinner and a movie. Who would think that I'd meet Peeta Mellark at a concert I didn't even pay for and end up being invited to go to dinner and a movie the next night? I'm trying to convince myself that this isn't a date. But I did text Johanna earlier, under the guise that Madge was in the situation and not me, and this was our exchange:

_Hannie [sent 4:35pm]: It's a good thing you're going to college next year. You need new friends if your bff is as brainless as you when it comes to these things_

_Just answer the question! [delivered 4:35pm]_

_Hannie [sent 4:36pm]: Yes. If I had to guess, it's probs a date. If he tries to pay, it is. If she wants it to be a date and he tries to pay – for the love of god brainless make sure she knows not to insist too hard on going dutch._

_Hannie [sent 4:36pm]: I worry for you so much sometimes_

Johanna is twenty-four and knows what she's talking about when it comes to dating. She's getting engaged to her boyfriend on their anniversary in August – Blight took Gale and I when he picked up the ring because he wanted a second opinion and her sisters are blabbermouths. So she must have done something right. I trust her.

We end up going to Darius's, a chowder house downtown. I can't believe that Peeta's apartment is so close to it but he has never been there before. It's one of my favorite places. Darius, the tall redhead who owns the place, even knows my order. Peeta laughs and orders the same as me, saying that if it's good enough for me to get every time he'll probably like it too. Our conversation is easy, just as it was last night. Peeta tells me about his work. He's doing an internship at a non-profit for kids with special needs. I tell him that I usually put in shifts at my aunt and uncle's restaurant on the weekends.

When our meal is finished and it's just about time to head to the movie theater, we both go to pull out our wallets.

"No, no," Peeta says. "It's on me."

Johanna's words play in my head. "Oh, you don't have to pay for me."

He grins. "I want to."

"Okay," I say. "But I get next time."

His grin brightens. "If that's what you want."

Logically, me getting next time should mean that I pay for the movie, but Peeta beats me to the punch and when I give him a look, he just smiles. "It's still this time," he says. "You have next time."

I can literally feel myself melting into a puddle.

There's not much about the plot of the movie that I can explain because, to be honest, I don't pay any attention to it. Instead I'm thinking about Peeta the entire time. He paid for my dinner and my ticket, he didn't balk at the idea that we would do something like this again, and every so often his hand will hit mine on the armrest. I'm in one of those zones where I'm trying so hard to pay attention to the movie that I don't. I can't.

Peeta pulls up to my house a little after nine thirty. "There," he says. "Well before curfew."

"You're a real charmer."

He shrugs and gives me a smirk. "Maybe I don't exactly want your parents to hate me and actually let me see you again."

"When is this _again_ you speak of?" I ask.

"I'm free all day tomorrow."

"I work brunch and lunch, but I get out at three if that works?"

He smiles. "That works for me," he says. Then he reaches over the console and takes my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "I'll see you tomorrow, Katniss."

I had always made fun of girls who let their emotions take them over. Seriously, the idea that a single smile could reduce you to nothing seemed so far-fetched and ridiculous that I knew that couldn't be real. That was just Hollywood.

But, when I walk in the house and sit down with my parents in the living room and Dad asks, "What's got you all smiley?" I realize I may be the poster girl for turning to sap because of a boy.

...

We grab sandwiches from a sub shop and bring them to one of the parks near a lighthouse on Saturday. It's a beautiful day and with the sea breeze it's not too hot. We sit on a blanket Peeta takes from the trunk of his jeep and he turns on the Country Pandora station for us to listen to while we eat. Once we're finished, we take a walk by the water, taking off our shoes and climbing on the rocks. Once we get as far as we can go, standing on the last of the rocks before it disappears into nothing but open ocean, I put my hands out and throw my head back. This is my element – the outdoors, nothing but fresh air and sunshine.

I feel Peeta come up behind me and he puts his hands on my waist.

"Be careful," he says in my ear.

What he doesn't realize is that I was doing better before he touched me. Now I feel so shaky that I could pull us both over the edge. I take a small step back and bump into his chest.

"I've got you."

He doesn't let go of me as we walk down the rocks. When he has to move his hands from my waist, he takes my hand. And he keeps my hand in his, our fingers interlocked, even after we've put her feet back into the sand and have grabbed our sandals and started just walking along the beach.

Here I am, holding hands with Peeta Mellark, with that foreign giddiness filling the pit of my gut and traveling through every inch of my body. My heart pounds in my chest and the blood drums in my ears. It's like nothing I've ever felt before.

We stop our walk and find a nice place to sit, enjoying the sunset as the waves lap at the shoreline. Peeta's hand still holds mine, tight enough so I know he hasn't forgotten about it but loose enough that, if I wanted to, I could pull away without much effort. But I don't want to let go. I want to stay like this forever, my head on Peeta's shoulder, our eyes both looking out toward the horizon.

But I can't stay like this forever. Darkness quickly takes over and with it comes swarms of black flies. We pack up our things and hop into Peeta's jeep. He takes me home, going the long way I notice, and when he pulls out in front of my house, he kills the lights. Even if Prim was snooping in the window, she'd never be able to see anything now – just the faint outline of Peeta's car in the night.

"I had a really good time," Peeta says.

"Me too."

He leans over the console and smiles shyly. It's amazing how someone so confident can suddenly look so boyish and nervous, but it happens to Peeta quite a bit.

"I really like you, Katniss."

"Me too."

I sound like some sort of idiot parrot, repeating the same thing over and over again, but I can't seem to do much else. My entire brain and all my years of building walls have turned to mush for this boy in a matter of days. I'm pretty sure if he told me he wanted to spend every moment with me for the rest of his life, I would allow it. At this point, my brain and my heart are not meshing.

"I really want to kiss you," he says.

"Me too."

And before I can internally beat myself up for my magnificent way with words, Peeta is kissing me. I've never been kissed before and so I know nothing about what I'm supposed to do. Everything I know is based on television and books, but my head just sort of floats away and my body instinctually takes over, as if it has any clue what to do. His hands are on my face and my hands are touching his and when he pulls away I whimper even though I'm out of breath.

"We should do that again," I say.

He laughs and gives me a quick kiss this time. "Oh, we will."

I'm on cloud nine by the time I reenter the house, running my fingers over my lips. Prim seems to be upstairs, probably on her phone doing God only knows what, but both my parents are in the living room. They look up a little too quickly when I enter.

"You were parked for quite a while," Dad says.

Mom rolls her eyes. "Hunter," she says, turning to him and shaking her head before looking back at me. "Did you have fun at the park?"

"Yeah."

My mom is a master manipulator. One minute she's asking me questions about the weather at the park and in what seems like a minute she's gotten me to tell her about Peeta, who he is, how we met, that we're kind of dating now. Dad stays quiet through the whole thing and only speaks as I'm trying to leave the room.

"Well, we want to meet him," he says.

...

My family has a huge cookout every Fourth of July and this year is no different. It's at our grandparents' house and everyone comes. So, of course, my dad tells me to invite Peeta, as if all these people won't scare him away. Or maybe that's my dad's intention. I want to protect Peeta from all the stares, the crazy questions, everything. I even tell him that if he needs to leave we can fake food poisoning or something. He just laughs and tells me that my family can't be that bad.

He clearly hasn't met my family.

And, as if to prove our bizarreness right off the bat, Johanna intercepts us almost immediately.

"So, this is the hunk we've all been hearing about from Auntie Clara," she says. She makes a big show of walking around him, even touching his biceps and asking, point blank, how many girls he's slept with. I shoot Blight the biggest death stare from across the yard but he's not paying attention or ignoring me – he needs to grab his future wife or I'm going to sink into the earth or kill her, one or the other.

Once she's finished examining him, she smirks and pats my head like a dog. "You did good, Brainless."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Hannie."

She smirks and saunters away.

Peeta leans down and whispers in my ear. "Brainless?"

I shake my head. "Don't ask."

Peeta does surprisingly well with my family for someone who says his family is miniature. He plays corn hole with Gale and the boys, actually manages to get a decent conversation out of Uncle Haymitch after he's the first one drunk, and woos my grandmother completely. Mom and Dad are clearly impressed and but I knew his friendly demeanor would win everyone over – or at least I hoped it would.

...

Summer is short. Too short. With all of my free time spent either with Peeta or thinking about him, the days go by even quicker. What did I even do during the summers before I met him? I don't know but I hope I never have to figure it out again.

How do people manage or even enjoy summer flings, knowing that they're going to just be together for the summer? If I didn't think that Peeta and I were at least going to try the long distance thing once school started again, I'm pretty sure I'd end up spending the majority of my summer curled up in bed. But as August begins to wane, we start talking less about summer and more about logistics of fall and spring. It takes four hours to travel between our schools, but we can still manage to get a good amount of time in during a weekend if one of us makes the trip. Since Peeta has a car, he'll be coming to visit me first.

School starts for Peeta later than it does for me, partially because of the schedules and mostly because as a freshman I have to go extra early, but I spend my last day with Peeta. We walk around the downtown hand in hand and take a break at the pier, sitting down and sliding out legs out of the railings to dangle over the water. Peeta plays his Pandora and we just sort of relax, taking in the crashing waves and the soft drawling lyrics coming from his speakers.

_...And I don't know what road we're on_  
_Or where we've been from starring at you_  
_Girl, all I know is I don't want this night to end..._

I turn to him. "We're gonna make it right?"

"You're not getting rid of me that easy." He smiles. "I don't know about you, but I'm in this for the long haul."

A wave laps against the wooden supports of the pier and I feel myself smile. "Me too."

* * *

**Notes**

Songs used are "Roller Coaster" and "I Don't Want This Night To End" both sung by Luke Bryan. The title also comes from Luke Bryan's song of the same name.

There really is a New England tuition break program, although the state in which Peeta and Katniss are living is left somewhat vague. If you're interested in looking at it more, you can find more info on the New England Board of Higher Education webpage. If you look on the page, Rehabilitation Services (offered at the University of Maine at Farmington) is part of this program for Connecticut students, although I am not basing "State" on any particular school.

Thank you for reading!


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